


the lights that are not stars

by supernovae



Series: things you said [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining Spock, Post-Five Year Mission, but mostly - Freeform, srsly hes so emo, theres spuhura but its only a mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernovae/pseuds/supernovae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is settling into his new apartment when he gets a call from none other than his former captain.</p><p>(a ficlet i wrote for a prompt on tumblr: things you said at 1 am)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lights that are not stars

Spock stands in the doorway of his apartment– his new home.

It certainly is aesthetically pleasing. A lot of white and chrome, a window overlooking the San Francisco Bay instead of a fourth wall. Spacious. Airy. Too much so.

It reminds him too much of how his home for the past five years was so very different. His room on the Enterprise was not small, but there was room only for essential items of furniture. It had been– dare he say it– cozy. And he misses it. He misses the hum of the ship, always present even when he was completely alone and completely silent. He misses looking out his window and seeing the stars drift past. This room is stark and barren, and even if there was a hum to hear, the noise-blocking walls would not allow him to hear it, and when he looks out his window, those drifting pinpricks of light in the darkness are nothing but cars crossing the Golden Gate Bridge.

He sighs, steps inside, sinks into the couch, facing the window, watching the lights that are not stars.

Logically, he knows that attaching sentimental value to a place where he lived for only five years is ridiculous. He lived on Vulcan for much longer, and never once experienced longing to return once he left.

But logically, he knows that it isn’t just the ship he misses.

As much as he hates to admit it, he had grown… attached to his commanding officer in the nearly eight years he had known him. And in that nearly eight-year period, he had never once even hinted that his feelings were deeper than the strong friendship they shared. In fact, whenever the crew would tease them about their unusually strong bond, Spock would insist that their relationship was purely platonic, and that feelings deeper than that would be illogical. Instead, he would admire his captain from afar– his golden skin, the harsh fluorescents doing it an injustice; his incredibly expressive, shockingly bright blue eyes; the way the corners of those eyes would crinkle when he smiled, which was (blessedly) often.

And now, he will probably never see any of those things again.

And that is fine.

(”Fine” is not “good”, “fine” is not “okay,” but “fine” will have to do. He made his decisions, and he would have to live with them. Regret is, after all, illogical.)

Imagine his surprise when his communicator beeps suddenly and he answers it to hear the familiar voice of his captain.

“Spock,” he says. “Can I come over?”

“Captain, you are aware that it is past 2400, correct?” the Vulcan replies, after a millisecond of surprised silence.

“Spock _pleeeeeease_. And I’m not your captain anymore, either.” Spock knows, of course. But addressing him as anything but “Captain” feels inappropriate. “Jim” is reserved for moments when Spock is not careful enough and his shields are let down, which is usually only when the captain’s life is in danger. And now that the captain’s life is no longer likely to be endangered on a daily basis, there is no excuse for an expression of such familiarity, of such intimacy.

But of course, that is not what he says to him.

“I am unsure why you would ask permission in the first place if you are intent on insisting until I say yes,” Spock answers.

“Is that a yes?”

“I suppose.”

He can almost hear the captain’s smile through the comm.

“Okay, cool. I’ll be over there in a few.”

In no more than fifteen minutes he hears the computer say, “You have a visitor. Shall I let them in?”

Spock responds affirmatively, and soon, the captain appears in his line of sight. The Vulcan’s heart still skips a beat when blue eyes lock on his.

The human’s face slowly breaks out into a grin. “Spock!”

“Captain,” says the Vulcan, nodding toward the man in the doorway.

“You’ve gotta stop calling me that eventually,” he chuckles, collapsing on the couch next to Spock, so close that their thighs are touching. The contact is not… unpleasant. Kirk locks eyes with the Vulcan again and Spock can feel the warmth of his breath. “It’s great to see you.”

“It has been only a few hours since we last saw each other, C- Kirk.” It’s hard to believe that it has only been a few hours since they beamed down onto a planet for the last time, that it has only been a few hours since life as he has known it for the past five years ended.

Kirk chuckles. “You’re getting better, but Kirk? What’s with the formality?”

_It exists because I need a barrier between you and I because if I get too close to you I’ll fall into you because if that happens I will get hurt because you are heterosexual and human sexual orientations and ideas of gender make no sense to me but that is the reality and there is nothing I can do about it but insist that I do not feel that way and erect a barrier between you and I_

But of course, that is not what he says to him.

“’Old habits die hard’, as you would say. Is there a purpose to your visit?”

“What, I can’t just drop by your place for a casual visit?”

“People do not casually visit at 2400– nearly 0100 now.”

Kirk sighs. “Alright, fine. Fuckass,” he mumbles under his breath. “I was feeling… restless. I’m not used to it, to sleeping and there’s not five hundred other people around me, knowing I’ll wake up and there’s not some new world to explore. I’m… lonely.”

The implications of that sentence have more of an effect on Spock than he would like to admit. But his face remains a mask of Vulcan stoicism.

“My apologies.”

He grins, somewhat sadly this time. “Nothing to apologize for, my friend. You wouldn’t know though, would you? Loneliness? Missing the action?”

“I do,” Spock says, before he can stop himself.

Kirk raises his eyebrows. “You do? A _Vulcan_? _Feeling_ things? And even more, _admitting_ to feeling things? I’m never letting you live this one down.”

Before Spock can answer, Kirk leans in even closer and says softly, “Do you miss me?”

_Of course I do I miss you every second I am not by your side even now as you are closer to me than you have ever been before I am preemptively missing you because I know this cannot last forever_

But of course, that is not what he says to him.

Spock responds, “I have not had the chance to yet, considering that it has been mere hours since our departure.”

Kirk flops back. “Aw. Well, I miss you.”

_Why why why do you have to do this to me why is it that one sentence can make me feel as if I am burning_

“That is… quite illogical.”

“Illogical,” Kirk mimics in a deadpan voice. “Everything is logical, illogical with you. But anyway,” he continues. “I’m interested. What is it you miss?”

What sort of lie can he make up now? Kirk has him backed into a corner. After a brief moment of panic, he concludes that he may as well tell the truth. What is there to lose?

“I lied. I do miss you.”

_Shields down 10%._

Kirk’s eyebrows raise again. “Well. That’s… unexpected.”

They sit in silence for what feels like several hours, though Spock knows that it is maybe only five minutes. Spock is hyperaware of the heat radiating from Kirk’s body.

“Spock, you know I love you, right?”

The Vulcan does not know what to say. He feels blood rushing to his face, he feels his heart beating twice as fast as it usually does. Kirk will probably make fun of him for how green he is.

When Spock does not say anything, Kirk says, “It’s fine if you don’t–”

Spock grabs Kirk’s face and crushes his lips to the human’s. Kirk, surprised at first, hesitates before he kisses back. But he does, and it is wonderful; slow at first, then building up to a heat unlike anything he has ever felt. It is not at all like kissing Nyota, or any other person Spock has been with; though the motions are the same, somehow, this feels so much more right. If Spock were more human, he’d almost say it feels like destiny.

_Shields down 50%._

After an indeterminate amount of time, Kirk pulls away, breathless. (Spock forgot that humans have a lower lung capacity than Vulcans.) He’s breathing heavy and his face is flushed pink and his lips, even pinker than his face, are swollen.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Who knew Vulcans could kiss?”

Spock does not know what to say.

So Kirk continues, “So I’ll take that as a yes then? You do love me?”

“Yes,” Spock replies. “I do.”

Kirk smiles again. Spock thinks that he would cross streets and oceans and galaxies just to see that display of bright white teeth. Kirk really makes him much too fanciful.

The human inches closer to the Vulcan, slides down, lays his head on the area directly below Spock’s right pectoral, where surely, he can hear the rapid beating of Spock’s heart.

_Shields down 100%._

They sit like that for a while, and Spock is staring straight ahead out the window. Eventually he dares to look down at Jim to find that he has fallen asleep, with a faint smile on his face. Spock slowly moves his hand toward his face, touches him as he has always wanted to touch him, spends the whole night, in fact, tracing the contours of the human’s face.

He thinks that perhaps, if he has Jim, he will be okay with the lights outside his window being cars instead of stars, that Jim is his own universe and Spock could spend forever exploring him.

How illogical.


End file.
